


A Spider's Kiss

by ryoflame



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, I am going to hell for this, M/M, Rough Sex, Sexual Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 17:00:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2158368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryoflame/pseuds/ryoflame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their relationship is mistrust and violence, a tug-of-war of pain and malicious intent but as dangerous as they are to each other they can't resist the pull.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Spider's Kiss

 ‘Say, Kaneki-kun… have you ever read Puig’s _Kiss of the Spider Woman_?’

Tsukiyama’s voice is soft and a little slurred. He can feel the bones in his fractured arm trying to knit themselves together, the blood down the front of his shirt is wet and sticky and his head rolls back against the wall he’s propped himself up against. He’s not in good shape, his legs are mangled below the knees, his body frantically working to piece itself together.

Today’s session had been rough.

‘No, I haven’t.’ Tsukiyama can’t lift his head enough to look up at Kaneki’s face as he stands over him but he can see up to the other’s waist, can see the way his hands hang at his sides and his thumbs crack each knuckle individually just the way Yamori used to.

‘ _Ah, c’est un trag_ _é_ _die_ …’ Tsukiyama draws his breath slowly; it hurts to do so, he’s certain his ribs are also fractured. Hysterically he tries to think if he has another suit just like this one or not, because this one is surely ruined and it’s such a shame, _such_ a _shame_. His head lolls forward again but Kaneki’s hand is suddenly there against his cheek, supporting it. Tsukiyama’s blood is all over his fingers and they leave red smears against his skin.

‘What’s it about?’ Kaneki’s tone is conversational as he crouches over Tsukiyama’s shattered legs as if he wasn’t the one who had dealt him that damage. He cradles Tsukiyama’s face in both hands now as his the one eye visible through the mask regards the broken gourmet with an eerie calm. The mask’s mouth is unzipped and Tsukiyama can see the satisfied smile on the other’s lips. ‘Tell me.’

Tsukiyama blinks a few times as his vision blurs, trying to focus. What was he supposed to tell? _Oh…_ Kaneki’s hands are warm against his cheeks, he wants to close his eyes but he knows he’ll pass out if he does.

‘It’s… it’s a story about two men are locked in a prison cell together. One is a revolutionary of brash character who trusts no one, the other a man of culture. A dreamer.’

Kaneki laughs but it’s cold, _cold_ laughter as his hands slide down the sides of Tsukiyama’s neck, digging his fingertips into the flesh hard enough to bruise, thumbs pushing up under his chin as he dips down to graze his teeth over the gourmet’s throat. ‘I can already see why you'd like it.’

As Tsukiyama’s head tips back again with the guidance of Kaneki’s hands he utters a deep groan; Kaneki responds to the vibration in his throat by biting down on it, his teeth easily piercing the skin. Tsukiyama chokes, his body jerking once in response to the pain as Kaneki suckles at the wound. He’s pressed close enough now that he’s straddling the gourmet’s lap, of which the man is only dimly aware. Every inch of him hurts, _burns_ as his body works constantly to fix itself.

Every time he’s close to being complete, Kaneki will rip into him again.

It’s been hours already, this has been one of their longest.

It always starts the same; with a sparring session. They fight for real, no holding back, even though the gourmet is well aware that Kaneki can beat him most of the time. He’s won a handful of times but he can’t ignore that niggling doubt that Kaneki had given him the victory each of those times, just to keep things interesting.

The attacks are vicious, with intent to maim and cripple until one of the two is unable to continue the fight. Blood is always spilled on both sides but usually more of Tsukiyama’s than Kaneki’s although the latter always seems to know at what point to stop—today, however, he’s left Tsukiyama completely ruined.

Kaneki slaps a hand sharply across the other's face and Tsukiyama’s eyes snap open wide again to look at him.

'Don't fade out on me, you gourmet bastard.'

It isn't a request but a command, one that Tsukiyama cannot ignore. He nods, the fogginess in his mind retracting a little and he realises his arms are mostly usable at this point though his legs still have a long way to go and the fresh wound on his throat is still oozing blood.

'Tell me,' Kaneki says, rocking forward in Tsukiyama’s lap, pressing against his stomach so the other can feel how hard he is through his clothing. 'How does the book go? With the revolutionary and the dreamer.'

The gourmet shudders as he draws one arm up so he can slide a hand against Kaneki's thigh but it is smacked aside immediately. He doesn't try again. 'The revolutionary... has withstood horrendous torture but keeps his secrets. The dreamer wishes to help him but all he can do is— _aahhhhh_!' his voice raises in pitch until he's screaming again, one of the points of Kaneki's kagune having pressed slowly down into the palm of the hand he'd touched him with until it punctures it and goes right through, pinning it to the ground.

'What can he do?' Kaneki asks in that same light, conversational tone. The fingers of Tsukiyama’s maimed hand twitch spasmodically around the tendril that's pierced through the palm. 'What can a dreamer do to help a revolutionary?'

Tsukiyama’s breaths are raw and shallow and he forces himself to continue. 'He... helps him escape reality for a little while... helps him... forget.'

Kaneki seems to contemplate this for a moment. 'How?'

'Kaneki-kun... _mon dieu_ ,I need... I need...' how Tsukiyama hates to beg but his regeneration has slowed so much since their sparring had begun. He has taken too much damage, lost too much blood. This is beyond a game, usually Tsukiyama would have received his reward long ago but for whatever reason, Kaneki has decided he hasn't yet earned it.

'Tell me.' Kaneki says patiently, and Tsukiyama knows he isn't talking about his needs.

'The rev...' he runs out of breath for a moment and tries again. 'The revolutionary listens to the dreamer's stories, of films the man saw...' he draws in another ratting breath—it's getting more difficult now. 'He allows himself to enjoy the... the stories. To let his imagination... pull him away from the harsh cruelty of the world.' Kaneki says nothing, so he continues. 'The dreamer eases his hostility, his fears. He gives... he gives him food, cares for him when he is sick. Slowly... slowly he gains his trust.'

Kaneki leans against him, his forearm braced against Tsukiyama’s chest while his other hand brushes the gourmet's normally impeccably styled hair—now wet with sweat and blood—from his face. 'It sounds stupid.' Kaneki's voice is cold, his visible eye narrow and devoid of emotion. 'The revolutionary is right not to trust anyone, to believe—no, to _know_ that the world is a cruel and unforgiving place. Sweet words and kind gestures are used as lures, trust is there to be broken.'

He's so close that his scent fills Tsukiyama's nose, overwhelming the cloying smell of his own blood and making him dizzy with yearning. His lips mouth Kaneki's name but there is nothing now but a wheeze.

When Kaneki cups Tsukiyama's face in his hands and kisses him, the edges of his mask rough against Tsukiyama's face, relief floods through the man's system because there, at least, he knows where the boundaries lay. He bites down hard on Kaneki's lower lip and as the blood spills into his mouth the rush is almost immediate, like an electric current running through his every nerve. His eyes roll back in his head for a moment as his senses are overwhelmed.

It's by no means his first taste, but that doesn't mean it is any less of a high, no less erotic than that first time.

Kaneki plunges his tongue into the other's mouth, his blunt nails digging in against the line of Tsukiyama's jaw as he works to conquer the other's lips and tongue. His teeth nip sharply until their blood mingles together and they're drinking up as much of each other as possible, red running stickily down their chins, smearing across cheeks. Kaneki's kagune is drawn back and Tsukiyama moves both hands up to grip at the other's coarse white hair, leaving more red through it although it's already thoroughly dyed.

He pants the boy's name needily against his mouth, a wanting mantra of _Kaneki-kun, Kaneki-kun, Kaneki-kun...!_

They rut against one another, revelling in the friction of their clothing and each other's bodies, breaths mingling in heated gasps. It's all foreplay; the sparring, the violence, the abuse. It all comes down to two bodies writhing atop one another, losing themselves in the distraction of pleasure.

Kaneki lifts himself off Tsukiyama's thighs only long enough to strip himself of his remaining clothing, tossing the shredded garments aside as he unbuttons Tsukiyama's pants and reclaims his place, straddling the gourmet's lap as he seats himself over the other's cock, leaning in to dart his tongue out against Tsukiyama's mouth in such a way that the other man practically keens, teeth snapping as he tries to catch it. Kaneki is too quick for him, but Tsukiyama has only a moment to mourn the fact when Kaneki presses down, a hand slick with blood guiding Tsukiyama into him.

Tsukiyama's manicured nails drag red lines along Kaneki's pale thighs. The gourmet's legs are still broken although some of the flesh has mended itself and he's frustrated with how little he can move; instead it's Kaneki doing all the work, smirking down at him as he rides the man's lap with practiced ease. Curses spill from Tsukiyama's lips in all languages as he loses himself to sensation; Kaneki's smell and taste, the way the other's body squeezes tight and hot around his cock and the way he _looks_... each sensation on its own is enough to overwhelm him, combined they are nearly unendurable.

Kaneki's name stutters out of him again and again, he rolls his hips as best he can as he fucks the lithe, muscled body atop his own. He claws at the leather mask with his hands, wanting it _off_ but Kaneki seizes his wrists, pinning them to the wall above Tsukiyama's head as he drives down harder, faster, fucking himself open on the other with unbridled lust and increasing violence.

Tsukiyama begs, as he always does. Pleads as he always does. Promises Kaneki the world, his undying loyalty, his soul—as he always does. Lays himself bare for the half-ghoul without shame, though the moment they leave the room he'll deny that he did.

As he always does.

This is for the two of them alone, because Tsukiyama is the only one Kaneki trusts with these levels of perversity and Kaneki _needs_ it as much as Tsukiyama wants it.

Kaneki slows right down and it tears a sound of dismay, of agony and desire from the gourmet's throat. When the boy stops all together, seating himself in the other's lap so Tsukiyama is buried inside him all the way to the hilt the man is trembling with the need to continue, to drive up into him hard and fast until he can get a reaction of any kind but that cold indifference.

' _Je t'adore..._ ' he whispers brokenly as Kaneki releases his hands so he can cradle Tsukiyama's head again, a gentle gesture this time which stands in stark contrast to everything else. ' _Je t'adore... ahhh..._ '

Kaneki doesn't reply, though he reaches up with one hand to finally unlatch the mask, pulling the leather away from his face so Tsukiyama is gazing directly into the boy's mismatched eyes and when Kaneki kisses him softly it has infinitely more impact than the brutal force from before.

When Kaneki draws back and begins to move again, Tsukiyama knows his exhausted body can't take much more of this torment. His arms wind around Kaneki's waist as he leans forward, biting into the other's shoulder though he doesn't break the skin. He knows better than to take more than he is given, and it takes everything he has to only go so far as laving the sweat from Kaneki's skin with his tongue.

His body is flushed almost unbearably hot by the time he comes, grunting and jerking up with his hips erratically as he holds Kaneki in place to spill inside of him. By the time he is spent he is barely conscious anymore, muttering inaudible things against Kaneki's throat as the other rides out his orgasm until the boy sits still in Tsukiyama's lap once more.

Kaneki wipes blood from Tsukiyama's lips and places a soft kiss there that is brief and almost chaste as he draws himself up off the senseless man with a hiss of discomfort. He knows that there is nothing he can do until the other recovers a little so he curls in against the gourmet's side with a soft sigh. When Tsukiyama is lucid again Kaneki knows they will leave the room behind, to take the time to recover

This session has left him satisfied in more ways than any before, his body aching in ways that he knows he will feel for several days to come.

'Perhaps you can tell me the rest of the story the next time.' Kaneki whispers against Tsukiyama's shoulder, and the man opens his eyes as he hears it, head turning to look down at the half-ghoul in a daze.

But he doesn't want to tell Kaneki the rest of the story about the revolutionary and the dreamer.

He doesn't want the story to end, because when it does, it ends in unexpected love, heartbreak, betrayal and ultimately... death.

**Author's Note:**

> I still can't believe I wrote this. Also I really, REALLY do recommend reading Kiss of the Spider Woman by Manuel Puig (the original novel, not the stageplay), it is one of my absolute favourite books and it's beautiful and tragic (though nowhere near as violent as this pfffft).


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